A Heart Divided, Love Undecided
by Astrid Oak Moon
Summary: With the sudden death of her betrothed, Ariane is thrust into Ladyship. She falls in love with Boromir... and Aragorn. When faced with a live-changing decision,will she make the right choice? What IS the right choice? Chap. 13plus written w/ co-writer.
1. Smile, My Love

AN: First, I would like to say, this is my FIRST FanFic story, so please be gentle while reviewing (b'cuz I KNOW you want to review this..). I love LotR, but I'm not a LotR geek (no offense to those who are) so if some things are wrong, please correct me nicely. I'm not too sure what I'm doing with this, but I just HAD to write, I've been having a hell of a day.

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><p><strong>Chapter the First.<strong>

Ariane sat down crossed legged and sighed in discontentment. She subconsciously smoothed her dress out over her legs. Today was her day. She should be happy. Then why wasn't she? She was finally able to wear her mothers' wedding gown; a simple white dress that flowed to her ankles, clung to her upper body until it met her hips where it loosened, but didn't flare out. The straps were wide and hung on the sides of her shoulders, much like a gypsy's dress. She had 'round her neck the necklace that had been passed down for generations; a small, golden rose with a small opal in the center on a golden chain. Her golden red hair had been braided the night before and cascaded down to the small of her back. Her closest female friends had helped put the tiny, diamond flowers in her hair.

She would be walking down to her betrothed in a few hours. She treasured these few moments alone to gather her thoughts.

Yes, of course she should be happy. This was every young woman's dream.

Except, of course, in their dreams, they were not entering a pre-arranged marriage with a complete stranger who watched them with a disgusting look of pure desire.

Ariane sighed again. Footsteps behind her snapped her out of her reverie.

"What are you doing, my child?" Her mothers gentle voice asked.

"I am just thinking," Ariane replied. Melolli stood in front of her and held out her hands. Taking her daughters, she pulled her to her feet.

Melolli's olive green eyes looked into Ariane's violet ones. Ariane answered her mothers unspoken question,

"I have no wish to marry a stranger. Though I have met him many times now, I still do not know him... or what I do know of him, I do not like."

"Ari, child, you should not speak so! Lord Belgorth is a good man. He is a fine warrior and shall surely make a fine husband."

"Yes, but would I make a good wife? I do not think so. Not for him at least. I would not be able to love him, or touch him in a way more familiar than friends. And he does not love me."

"No, he does not. But he would never harm you. He has a good heart, and this marriage will elevate you, and this family." Melolli said tenderly.

"I do not doubt his heart, merely his brain. I have yet to have an intelligent conversation with him," Ari exclaimed ruefully, "I have no desire to wed someone merely out of convenience. I want to wed out of love!"

Melolli sighed. Usually mariages were choice, not arranged. But Melolli and her husband, Franorn, had been in a dire situation seventeen years ago, and had made a promise to a certain lord to secure their 7 month old baby daughter's life. Ironically, that promise had demanded the child's life be handed over to him when she was old enough to marry.

"At least you shall still be able to visit. And you will be able to live in Minas Tirith! That's only a few days' ride from here. Smile, my love. Things could be worse."

Oh, things could be worse indeed. Much, much worse...

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><p>AN: Short, and a cliffie.<br>Correct me if I'm wrong, but AN means "Authors Note" here, right? I hope I'm right, or I'll feel like an idiot... -smacks head with a banana- oh, what a newb...


	2. A Village of Death

Ariane hung her head in defeat after arguing with her mother.

"I know, mother. I shall be there soon. Please, let me linger a moment," Ariane whispered. Melolli nodded.

"I love you. I wish your father could be here today. You're so beautiful. He would be proud, my daughter."

Ariane blinked back tears, "I love you, too, Mother." Melolli smiled tenderling and turned back South, to the village.

Ariane let out a sigh and stared at her white slippers. Just as she was about to start the five minute walk to her village, a shrill trumpet of a crude horn rang out, and she clapped her hands over her ears. That was no normal horn... no friendly horn could make her knees quake and her heart flutter.

Screams suddenly rang out from the direction of her village. Ariane gasped, picked up her skirts, and ran.

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><p>She stopped just outside the outskirts of her village, behind a thick oak tree. She peered out from behind the brush and stifled a gasp. In the few minutes it had taken her to get there, every hut was on fire, everybody was running around-either being chased, chasing, or trying to get out of the way. There were bodies already littering the ground.<p>

Her eyes widened even more when she realized the terrorizers were no ordinary foe; these were orcs. She felt her left palm tingle and bunched it into a fist. She didn't have enough power to kill them, and even if she did, there was no way to say if her power would only kill the orcs. Silently, she cursed herself for not having a weapon on her. Ariane's searching eyes fell on a bow... which happened to still be clenched in a short orcs dead hand.

Taking a deep breath, she dashed out of the trees, pried the bow free, jerked two arrows out of the quiver, and notched them. She let them fly into to first orc that rounded the corner. Three more followed their comrade to the dirt.

A horn sounded from the West. Unlike the previous one, this had a sound pure and valiant. The horn of Gondor.

There was a thunder of hooves pounding against the ground, and a flood of men, their eyes gray and hard, their armor silver and shining, their horses tall and proud, poured in. Arrows flew true, blades fell mercilessly. Soon most of the orcs were slain or being chased.

A horse stopped in front of her. His rider slipped off and approached her carefully, eyeing the bow she still held up as though she was going to shoot, though there was not an arrow notched.

"Are you alright, my lady," The rider asked in a deep, masculine voice.

"Aye, but my neighbors are not," She said, dazed. It seemed so unreal. She must have fell asleep in the glade somehow. Her eyes fell upon a woman whose face was contorted in fear. Slowly, Ariane made her way to the woman. She fell on her knees, and checked her pulse. There was none.

"Mother." A single tear rolled down her fair cheek before she screwed her eyes shut. _A dream, this must be a dream_... A hand fell on her shoulder.

"M'lady?" And all went black.

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><p>"There is no choice! We must burn the bodies. We cannot leave them here to rot, nor do we have time to bury them."<p>

Arianes' eyes slowly fluttered open. She took a deep breath, and gagged. The air was heavy with the smell of blood. Looking around quickly, she noticed the ground was clear. She sat up slowly and realized they were on the outskirts of the village, away from the smoldering huts. A form lay shrouded a few feet from her. The two men whose bickering voices had awakend her were standing off closer to the village. There was a pile of all the inhabitants of the village there.

One of the men noticed her staring. He quickly came over to her.

"M'lady. How are you feeling?" His gray eyes bore into hers. She shook her head.

"I just witnessed my whole village being slain before my eyes. How do you think I'm feeling," She answered quietly, "Who are you?"

"Forgive me, I am Boromir."

She gasped, "_The_ Boromir? As in, _son-of-the-Steward-of-Gondor_ Boromir?" He nodded grimly.

"My lord! I- You- How-" She stuttered. He shook his head.

"You needn't say anything. I am sorry I did not arrive sooner," he looked around, "I hate to ask this, my lady, but... seeing as you fainted once you saw her... I figured you would want to... you know..." He gestured toward the stiff body under the blanket.

She raised an eyebrow and walked over. She lifted a corner.

"My mother," She stated simply. Ariane pulled the blanket off, took her mothers right hand, kissed it, and slid off the ring on her index finger. It was a silver band set with a small blue stone. She slid it on her right index finger. She replaced the blanket and faced Boromir.

"My lord," The man Boromir had been arguing with approached them and nodded to her, "What of the bodies? We must ride for Minas Tirith. The rest of the men have arrived; they hunted the last of those _vermin_." He spat out bitterly.

Boromir looked at her, "My lady? These are your people. I'm afraid we have not the time to bury them, bu-"

"Burn them. All of them. It does not matter," She smiled thinly, "We burn our dead anyway. I know not one of these people who would've wanted to rot in the ground. 'Tis nearly as bad as rotting above the earth." The shorter man nodded and ran off, spouting orders to the soldiers as he did so. Boromir bowed his head at her, and gestured to her mother.

"With your leave...?" He asked. She bit her lip and nodded. He gently lifted Melolli up and walked purposefully to the blaze that was already starting.

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><p>AN: Okay, so, another short chappie. That blue button down there's looking lonely. I think it wants to be clicked.(;<p> 


	3. Will You Accompany Me?

**4.22.11. **I forgot to write something in the first few chapters...

**Disclaimer:**** I only own Ariane, her mother, father, Lord Whatshisfaceherbetrothed, and the plot. Tokien owns Middle Earth, and Boromir. -sighs-**

**Review Replies- heavenlydragan: Thank you for taking the time to review! Yes, her betrothed died. She was the only villager to survive.  
><strong>

**AN: I also neglected to mention, this is happening in Gondor... this chapter is starting off after the cremations, where Boromir ask's Ariane to come with him; hence the title "Will You Accompany Me?" Constructive criticism welcome. :]**

Boromir: "What's to critize? I just saved a beautiful maiden from an untimley demise, who wouldn't LOVE that?"  
>Me: -rolls eyes- "Who's to say you're keeping fair maiden, though? Eh?"<br>Aragorn: "Yea, maybe she will choose to ride with me. What say you to that?"  
>Boromir: "Pfft, I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. There is no way in Middle Earth she'd choose you over me."<br>Aragorn: "I am the heir of Isildurm" -smirks- "I am going to be King of Gondor someday."  
>Boromir: -squints eyes mischeviously and whispers,- "Gondor has no king... Gondor needs no king..."<br>Ariane and I: "Men!" -rolls eyes-

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><p>Ariane laughed with a small wave of relief. Her room was still intact <em>[AN: sorry to interrupt, but I'm going to call the traveling sack a "backpack," and I'm going to pretend they had pencils. This is my version of Middle Earth, so please don't throw your spoon at me...].<em>

_Oh, thank the Valar,_ she thought. What were the odds that the section of her roof that had been burning fell, and the flames didn't spread? Her house was one of the only that had been somewhat spared; though the others were in much worse shape. Quickly she changed into a pair of soft green leggings and a cerulean blue tunic which fell a quarter of the way down her thighs. Deftly she removed the jewels from her hair and put them into a pocket of her traveling pack. A pained expression flicked across her face when she wrapped the bridal gown in a rectangle of cloth. Instead of putting it back into the trunk under her bed, she carefully laid it in her bag. She stuffed another tunic, a cloak, a pair of leggings, her reed pipe, three pencils, and a diary in, too. A small dagger from the trunk under her bed she cinched round her waist, and, swinging the backpack onto her shoulders, she laid her quiver sideways over it.

With one last glance around, she left-not without a pang of sorrow-holding her bow in her left hand.

"Where will you go?"

"I am not sure as of yet. I suppose I shall ride out to Minas Tirith; for I have no family now left," Ariane said regretfully. She was astride her horse, Avari. She had let the other horses that had been in the pasture go; there was no need for them now. She couldn't help feeling a little guilty though, the only horse in there that was hers was Avari. Of course, that didn't matter, seeing as... nobody here had a use for them anymore... the look the men had had on their faces when they saw her in leggings and a tunic when she had walked back toward the Company instead of a dress was priceless. They courteously refrained from asking her about her attire. When you were an only child, you sometimes had to get dirty, and dresses just don't work for that.

"My lady-"

"Ariane," She swiftly interjected, "I am no Lady. Please, m'lord, call me Ariane." He smiled and nodded curtly.

"Yes, forgive me. It just so happens we were on our way to Minas Tirith. Would you mind accompanying us?"

"Well... I don't have any of my own rations, and I might not be able to keep up," She said uncertainly.

He smiled. "We did rescue you, we will not mind sharing our rations with out. And we do not have to ride hard."

"But... I'll be a burden," She mumbled lamely. At this, he threw back his head and laughed. It was a nice laugh, deep and hearty, charming really. It erased for a moment the situation. She was trying her best at pushing it out of her head. If she thought about it right now, she was likely to go insane from grief. No, best to wait until she somehow found a room in the Citidale. _[AN: Did I spell that wrong? Please correct me if I did.] _

"You shall be a _guest_. Never you worry," He shook his head, "Nay, I fear my men may be all too happy to share their food with you." She raised an eyebrow at that. He continued, "It was been a long while since they have had such beautiful company." Her eyes widened.

"Uhm, well... maybe I'll just... I can't... uhm... er," She tried to form a sentence, but she was too flustered.

"I did not mean for it to sound like that! We are all honorable men of Gondor, none of us will lay a hand on you, little one. You are a little bit young, merely extraordinarily pretty. The only thing they've seen for weeks are orcs and the land." He assured her. Ariane was too thoughtful to be peeved about being called "young." She bit her lip in thought.

"Please, m'lady," her head snapped up and she opened her mouth to correct him, "Will you accompany me?"

Instead of saying she was not a lady like she'd intended, she sighed. "You are too kind. Of course I shall accompany you, though I fear I shall be on the beneficial side of this." He bowed his head.

They exchanged a few more words, and he told the company to move out. They were on their way to Minas Tirith.

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><p><strong>AN: Yikes! Don't hate me for all the short chapters! Dialogue bores me . Anyway, the next chapter is going to be nice and long, I'm planning for it to start off right before the reach the White City, and cut off once she gets her own room to reside in and gives in to her grief.<strong>

Boromir: "That's just b'cuz I'm not with her. Who can think of sadness when they're around me?"  
>Aragorn: "Who can think of anything besides your big nose?"<br>Boromir: "... that was low..."

**If you review, I'll give you a cookie :3**


	4. Behold! The White City!

**Disclaimer: I own only Ariane (Airy-n), her horse(Ah-var-ee), Lucretia (Loo-Cree-Shuh), the plot... well, I'm sure you know what belongs to Tolkien.(:**

**Review Replies: silverswath; thank you for the correction! ^^  
>Snips95; thanks so much, that means a lot! I'll try not to disappoint you with this chapter! <strong>

**AN: I had a few mistakes in the last chapter... I forgot the 'l' in Tolkien, sorry, and wrote "Isildurm." There's no "m." Sorry, sometimes my finger slips!**

Boromir: "Hee hee.. that's dirty..."  
>Me: *sigh* "You're <em>supposed <em>to be a _gentlemen_..."  
>Boromir: "Key word being: man."<br>Me: *rolls eyes* "On with the story!"

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><p>Ariane let out a frustrated sigh. They had been traveling for days now, and she was sick of it. Her hair was dirty-hell, there wasn't a part of her that wasn't dirty. She smelled foul, and the sweaty men in their heavy armor didn't do much for the smell, either. She was riding alongside Boromir, who, though polite and courteous, remained silent. His eyes were on the horizon, searching for Minas Tirith as if it were going to be as apparent as a light house at sea.<p>

"Company, halt! Make camp. We shall be there just in time for some lunch tomorrow!" This brought a few chuckles from the men around him. Boromir's stoic expression gave way to a small smile. Ariane slipped off Avari. Her knees buckled and she would've fallen to the ground if it hadn't been for strong arms quickly grasping her by the waist.

"Careful, my lady. It would not do to fall, and get even dirtier," Boromir smiled down at her. She blinked up at him and blushed. _By the Valar, I don't think I've ever seen eyes so beautiful,_ she thought. They were gray of course; gray eyes being the most dominent eye color in the realm of Gondor, but strikingly so. They had flecks of blue in them.

"You eyes are beautiful," Ari whispered. She could've smacked herself. Surprise showed on his face, then a slow grin spread across his face.

"Why thank you m'lady. They are quite charming, are they not?" He winked at her. She flushed even more.

"I meant to say "thank you", but I.. well... uhm, thank you." She mumbled. He laughed, and she became aware of how close they were. She lifted a hand to his chest and pushed gently.

"Back, Gray Eyes, back. A woman needs her space," She said teasingly. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, but let go of her.

"It is you, fair maiden, who needs to back away. Clutching onto me," He clicked his tongue, "One would almost think you want to be close to me." She laughed at that, a light, tinkling sound. _Like a stream, _he thought to himself, then, _smooth, but with the occasional loud, unexpected burbles_, as she snorted. Avari had nudged her shoulder, causing her to collapse to the ground. He grinned to see her try to push Avari's muzzle away; the horse was huffing on her face. He put one hand on Avari's neck, and offered the other to Ariane. She accepted it gladly, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Well, this seems to be familiar," She was once again held tight to him. She blushed and pulled away, her heart pounding in her chest. She pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders.

"Chilly, isn't it?" She loosed Avari's saddle bags. Boromir had advised her to keep the saddle on at all times, in case they had to quickly move out. He smiled at the change of subject.

"Aye, it is. We shall leave at first light, and ride hard," Boromir agreed.

Ariane groaned, "Haven't we been riding hard already, my lord?"

"Indeed. But we shall ride all the harder in the morn, as we are so very close to Minas Tirith," His eyes sparkled, "Tell me, my lady, have you ever been welcomed home by the clear call of silver trumpets? While the watchmen take up the call, "The Men of Gondor have returned"? Have you ever rode in, seeing the smiles on your peoples' faces, the gratitude in their eyes?"

Ariane didn't answer. He hadn't meant for her to.

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><p>"My lady? We ride out in ten." Ariane blinked her eyes and sat up, rubbing them to get the sleep out of them.<p>

"Thank you, Zackanen," She yawned groggily. The young man grinned at her and ran off.

"Oh, my aching bones!" She cried out, stretching her arms out toward the heavans.

"You'd think you would be used to it by now, my lady. We've only been sleeping on the ground for a few nights now," Boromir teased her.

"Yes, but somehow, my body is still expecting the nice comfort of a sweet goose feather bed. Ahhh, and a nice, hot cup of-TEA!" She exclaimed as Boromir placed a cup in her hands, "Oh, Lord Boromir! I think I just died." She took a sip and closed her eyes, savoring it.

He chuckled, "I found this in one of the packets in my saddlebag. I suppose it was waiting for you."

"Mmm," She agreed, sipping happily. He laughed that laugh that so captivated her; the deep, hearty, enthralling one. She smiled tenderly into her cup, and downed the rest of it.

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><p>"We're home!"<br>"At last!"  
>"Minas Tirith!"<br>"Watch where you're going! Get your dirty horse away from me!"

The men burst into conversation when the White City came into view. Ariane gasped when she saw it.

It was more beautiful than her mother or anyone had explained it to her.

It was built into the face of a humongous mountain. There were several levels, and it was dazzling white. She couldn't seem to take her eyes of such a pure sight. It filled her heart with hope and joy.

"Behold! The White City," Boromir exclaimed proudly. Her pink lips curled upwards in a detached smile. Her eyes were shining with the brilliance that was Minas Tirith. As her eyes were fastened to the City, his eyes were fastened to this lovely creature.

Ariane started when the fanfair of trumpets called out.

"The Men of Gondor have returned! All hail Lord Boromir!" Ariane laughed carelessly. She had made it. Despite everything, she was exactly where she was intended to be.

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><p>"Lord Belgorth , you say? He is-was a very esteemed man." The Steward smiled, an odd expression to see on those thin lips and cruel, piercing eyes.<p>

"So I've been told, my lord Steward," Ariane inclined her head slightly.

"You two were to be wedded the day of the attack, were you not?"

Ariane took a deep breath, "Yes, m'lord."

"And the village was attacked _before_ you two were wed?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"So you are not a widow, then?"

"No, m'lord." She inclined her head and bit her lip. She had told him the entire story twice now, and he was still asking dumb questions.

"Well, as the lord has no other family nor benefactors, that means you will inherit his... inheritance. I happen to know why he left, and that he was indeed headed for your village to marry you. I have no reason to suspect you are lying, as you did not know. I shall settle these affairs. I will call for you or send word soon.

"In the meantime, Lucretia will take you to your room," Denethor said, "Lucretia, you know what to do."

"Thank you, my lord," Ariane curtsied. A middle aged woman with dark brown hair tight up in a bun walked over to her, jerked her head towards the door, and starting walking at a brisk pace. _This must be Lucretia_, she thought.

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><p>Her room was beautiful. The sleeping chamber itself was a large as her hut, with a queen sized canopy bed, a lamp, candles, fireplace, and shelves. The bathing chambers were nearly half as small, and she even had her own sitting room, which had a couch, fireplace and a bowl chair. <em>Perfect for reading in<em>, she thought to herself.

"I hope the rooms are to your liking, my lady?" Lucretia asked quietly.

"But of course! I have never seen anything so splendid, it is perfect; far more than I ever hoped for," As a second thought she added, "And I am not a Lady. Please, call me Ariane."

Lucretia's eyes softened. "As you wish... Ariane." Ariane smiled at her.

"So... what do you do for entertainment around here?"

"Well, when I'm not on duty, I go riding, though not often as of late... what with the Shadow in the East..." She let her voice trail off.

Ariane suppressed a shudder. A shadow and a threat had been growing on her mind e'er since the clouds above Mordor had slowly started to expand into the realm of Gondor. An unwelcome expansion.

"I saw you ride in with Captain Boromir," Lucretia's eyes sparkled, "Did you ride all the way with him?" Ariane knew Lucretia had already heard the story, but she welcomed the chance to talk.

And so, yet another friendship was started.

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><p><strong><span>AN:<span> Not as long as I'd hoped for, but it's better. Sorry for such short chapters.**


	5. A Meeting With The Son of the Steward

**Disclaimer: Anyone whose read LotR trilogy recently should know who and what I do and do not own.**

**Review Replies: ****heavenlydragan: _-throws cookie in the air- quick, catch!(;_  
><span>Certh<span>; Wow! Very well written reviews. I'll definitely be using that site as a ref, thank you. Ariane isn't exactly a normal Man... but I won't say anymore-I don't want to ruin it, and I'm not sure if that will work into the story anyway. I know it wouldn't work in Tolkiens' Middle Earth, but that's fine. As for Denethor, I'm going to show his kind, funny, caring side soon. Not for very long, but I just want to give a glimpse of the Man I always thought Denethor would've been before the Palantir and everything else. Thank you _so_ much for your constructive criticism and compliements!  
><span>Snips95;<span> I guess we have that in common.(; Thank you!**

**AN:**** Did you know when you're stressed, one of the signs is sighing? We're doing a short thing on stress in my health class, and that was one of the symptoms. I happen to sigh a lot. I like sighing. It amuses me. Just like that giraffe that's behind you, reading over your shoulder.**

Denethor: _"Do you see what madness I must put up with? Whenever I am mentioned in one of these vile FanFictions, I am portrayed as a bad guy! Me, a bad guy! I have my moments, I admit, but to make me seem so-so-"  
><em>Boromir: "_Cruel? Unjust? Rude? Callous? Ignorant? Gullible?"  
><em>Denethor: -Death Glare- _"On with this false disgrace of a Middle Earth tale!"_

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><p>Ariane tugged the brush through her thick hair and sighed. <em>I've been doing quite a lot lately<em>, she thought, and sighed again. She was standing by her window in a pale blue nightdress. It felt _wonderful_ to be clean again. The many bottles and pots on a low shelf by her bathtub had delighted her. She had chosen the scents of honey and lilac. She had found an unexpected friend in Lucretia, which she was grateful for. Lucretia had finally left earlier, with the promise to send up some hot water, which Ariane had stayed in until she was shivering and pruny. Now she was looking out over the city and beyond. It was truly beautiful... except for, when she peered over to the East, she got an unsettling glimpse of Mordor. She shuddered.

A sudden rap on the chamber door drew her from her musings.

"Wait just a moment, please!" Ariane called out as she hurried over to the closet to get a robe. Tying it around her middle, she opened the door, and came face to face with one of the oddest people she'd ever seen. He was short, almost like a hobbit, but nearly a foot taller. He was bald, but didn't look old. His eyes were different; the left was brown and the right blue. Furthermore, he was missing his left arm.

"Hello, my lady," the person bowed to her, "I have been sent up her with a message for the Lady Ariane. You are she, I presume?"

"Uhm, yes," Ariane replied, flustered. "But I am no Lady. I beg of you, call me Ariane."

He nodded. "As I said, I have a message for you," He paused. She raised her eyebrows and he continued, "Lord Boromir wishes you to meet him by the White Tree before breakfast tomorrow."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Thank you," She bowed her head at him. He bowed low in return, and took his leave. She closed the door to her chambers and sighed. Walking over to the shelves, she selected a thick volume with a purple velvet cover; _Adventures of a True Gondorian_. Settling into the bowl chair, she opened the book, and began to read.

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><p>Ariane's eyes fluttered open. She stretched, and her book fell to the floor. It was so nice to sleep in a real be-well, on a cushioned surface, instead of the cold, hard ground. Smiling gently to herself, she got up. After she washed her hands and face in the rose water in the basin on her vanity, she selected a medium green dress with gold embroidery and donned it. Deftly, she braided her long hair in a side braid. She turned from the wardrobe and looked into her full length mirror. Her eyes strayed over her attire, but stopped on her necklace. Ari put her hand to it. She hadn't thought about the rose pendant since her... her wedding day. She smiled sadly at her reflection. She slipped her feet into a pair of golden-coloured slippers, and quietly took leave of her new quarters.<p>

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><p>Boromir's eyes took her in from across the courtyard. She was wearing a beautiful gown that enhanced the startling violet of her eyes, an eye color he had never before seen, and the red tints in her golden hair. A smile graced her pink lips when her eyes alighted upon him.<p>

"My lady! I had started to fear you had gotten lost!" He boomed, his voice echoing across the courtyard. Her smile grew larger. She lifted her skirts to her calves and ran to him. She stopped about a foot from him.

"My lord," She murmured with a curtsy. He grinned.

"My lady," He bowed with a flourish. She laughed, a light, melodious sound which made his lips curve into a larger smile. He offered his arm to her, and she took it.

"I hope you are so far pleased with the city, my lady?" He inquired. She nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh yes, quite. Your father the Steward appointed Lucretia as my serving maiden. She is ever so charming and sweet. She makes a wonderful conversationalist," Ari replied, thinking of their conversation last night, gossiping about the handsome lords of the court. "I do very much like her."

Boromir stared straight ahead. "Ah, yes, Lucretia. She does like to gossip."

"Don't all women from cities, my lord?" At his irked glance she added, "Or so I've been told. I've never been to any city, save for when I was a child of but three years, and now. Not that village women don't gossip, too." She finished dryly. He chuckled.

"I do not take offence, lady, as it is anything but false," Changing the subject, he said, "Would you care to accompany me to breakfast?"

"Why, but of course not! I am already here with you, am I not?" For they were just outside the Dining Hall. He chuckled. "If I did not have any sense, I'd say you had me meet with you just so you could whisk me away to breakfast."

"Well, my lady, it is well that you do have plenty of sense," She snorted, "But not in this matter." He finished. She laughed gaily. They quickly passed through the great doors, and settled down to eat.

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><p>"Aaah!" A crash from the bathing chambers startled Lucretia as she slipped quietly into her new mistress' chambers. Quickly, she rushed to see what was the matter. Quite a sight greeted her cerulean blue eyes.<p>

The Lady was lying on her back on the soaking floor, with her knees raised and her left arm supporting her up. With her right, she was reaching towards the tub-which was on its' side.

"My lady, what ever did you do?" Lucretia exclaimed as she rushed to her aid. She helped Lady Ariane right the tub and mop up the water, which, regretfully, was still warm. It was such a pain to heat water and bring it in bucketfuls to the rooms; each floor had its own laundry room, where bathing water was also heated. When all was rectified, mistress Ariane looked at her with a lopsided apology smile.

"I am so sorry, miss Lucretia. I just... I was lying in the tub, reading, when I got upset, and tossed the book away. I then decided I wanted to continue reading, but the book was slightly out of my reach, and... well..." Lucretia struggled to maintain a straight face when she realized her mistress must have leaned too far over the edge of the tub, causing it to tip on its side, spilling its contents-including the Lady Ariane.

Lady Ariane recovered the book. It was sopping wet. She sigh, a simply sound Lucretia had become familiar with as one of Lady Arianes' habits.

"I don't suppose this will dry out," Lady Ariane said regretfully. Lucretia took it from her with a respectful tilt of her head. She raised an eyebrow when she read the title. _Adventures of a True Gondorian_.

"Nay, probably not," Lady Ariane sighed and apologized bashfully. After assuring her it was not something too terrible, and reassuring her that it was truly not something to fret about, the lady finally settled down on the cushioned one-person bench in front of her vanity, allowing Lucretia to brush her hair, while working very nice smelling oils. When she told her she could choose the scent for her, Lucretia was surprised. This lady was unlike any she had served before. Some had been kind, certainly, but this one more so. Not only had she accepted Lucretia's first advance at a friendship last night, she also actively engaged in conversation today, even trusting her judgement. _I only hope it does not pass_, she thought to herself.

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN:<span> Yay! 1,674 words! Still an extremely short chapter, but it's the second longest yet. Please don't kill me for all the short chapters. I've been having writers block... yea, I know it's a bit early for that, since I just started writing, but oh well. For you Aragorn lovers, he's coming soon. Ah, but not soon enough. -sighs-  
>And, I know some of you must be wondering-or will wonder-how long before the Fellowship this story is. Well, I can't answer that, since I don't even know. I <em>might<em> turn this into a 10th walker (don't shoot me yet!) but I'm not even sure if I want to. I mean, I can't write good enough chapters for that. If I decided to commit myself to that, I'd really commit; chapters nearly as long as the real chapters in the book. If anyone has any good ideas about how Ariane is going to run into Aragorn when he comes, please, tell me. Or just any good ideas about what to write about in the next few chapters. That'd be much appreciated. And if I use your ideas, I promise to mention that I got the idea from you. Plus, I'll give you a purple elephant.  
>I have an idea about another story; two elven twins-Avari and Namárië . Avari means "unwilling", though I've also read it means "refusers." <em>Namárië<em> means "goodbye" or "farewell." I think. Correct me if I'm wrong. But they rhyme, so for all intents and purposes, they _will_ mean Unwilling and Farewell.**

Boromir: "Does anyone else notice that Arya's Author's Notes are longer than her chapters? And not once am I mentioned!"  
>Aragorn: "They're only about 18 of the chapters. But they are merely 1/100 of your nose."  
>Boromir: "Why? Why must you comment so frequently upon my nose?"<br>Aragorn: "B'cuz the Lady Arya makes me, of course. Do you think I would bicker with you of my own accord, Pinnocio?"  
>Boromir: -Death Glare- *turns on his heels and stalks out of the room*<br>Aragorn: "What is it with the line of Stewards of Gondor and Death Glares?"


	6. Within Moments

Lucretia helped the Lady into bed despite her mortified protests, claiming Lucretia had helped her enough tonight.

Ariane caught her hand when she turned to leave, "Thank you for being so kind."

"It is my duty, m'lady." Lucretia curtsied reluctantly.

"It is your duty to assist me, yes, but it is not within your duty to be kind to me. Not every maid would have conversed with me, or acted so easy around me - though you still act a tad too formal," She shook her head reproachingly, but with a hint of a smile in her eyes.

Lucretia just smiled, "I am unused to a Lady such as yourself-one who is new to nobility. It's difficult to thing as one so lovely and fair as one as low as myself." Ariane laughed.

"Yes, it is a difficult feat to wrap my mind around the idea also," She tried to cover a yawn.

"It is time for you to sleep. Good night, my Lady Ariane."

*Yawn* "G'nite, Lucretia..."

* * *

><p>The sound of birds singing roused her from her sleep. She lay there for a moment, reveling in the feel of the most luxurious bed and coverings she had even touched. She had done this every morning for the past five months, five long months in which she had met a flurry of peoples, expanded her knowledge vastly thanks to the library and the elders who loved to chat, and grown closer to Boromir. Boromir. He was so kind, and it seemed he never grew tired of her companionship. He made certain to visit her at least once every three days, but he was busy with planning out battles and whatnot. The shadow in the East continued to grow darker and expand. But now was not the time for such thoughts. Now was the time to lay here motionless, and enjoy every little bit of goodness she had stumbled upon.<p>

She didn't even stir when she heard maids enter the chamber and fill in the tub with steaming water. One of them came over to her.

"Good-morrow, Ari." It was Lucretia. Ariane grunted and mumbled. Lucretia laughed softly, just loud enough for Ariane to hear, and left the room, beckoning the others to follower her.

Once the door shut quietly, Ariane reluctantly pushed off the covers.

Shivering, she made her way to the tub in the other room. _It's unbelievable how far I have to walk just to get to the tub now,_ she thought. As has been said before, her sleeping room itself was larger than her hut had been. Luckily the bathroom was right by her sleeping room.

Ariane eased herself into the tub after disrobing. A sigh escaped from her half-parted lips as she did so. She leaned her head back on the edge of the tub, and draped her arms on the sides. She moved her legs slowly up and down in the water, relishing the feel of the cold air suddenly breaking over her warm skin. After soaking for a bit, she added some lemon and honey scented oil to the water. Her hair was bunched under her head, serving as a makeshift pillow. She didn't have to wash it, as she had washed it yesterday. At least they didn't have to go to the creek and bathe in cold water, as she had done before she had come here. It was a rare treat indeed when her mother had taken the time to draw up a hot bath.

When she was finally shivering, she stood up and grabbed a towel. She wrapped it around her and stepped carefully out of the tub. Walking back to her wardrobe, she selected a plain baby blue dress that clung to her waist and fell to the top of her ankles. Its sleeves ended at her elbows, and had a scoop neckline dotted with little pearls. A gold girdle went 'round her waist. She pulled her hair into a ponytail on the middle of her head and tied it with a gold-lined blue ribbon. She put on the same pair of golden slippers she had worn on her first morning here, and studied herself in the mirror.

She thought herself to be relatively pretty, which was quite an understatement. She had high cheekbones, a narrow face (though not narrow to the point of being thought foxed-faced), and had large amethyst eyes which-when closely examined-had gold lines coming from the pupil, almost like a sun. In certain lights her eyes almost seemed to have a blueish tint to them. Her lips were small but full, tinted a becoming pink. She had pale skin, which most women her status-_or her previous status_, she thought wryly- did not have; being exposed so often to the sun to complete their chores and help out around the village. Her hair she had seen on few others, red, but some of the strands were kissed golden. And not the ginger red either; a true, deep red. It was thick, but easy to manage, thank the stars. It could be at times unruly, being straight one day no matter how hard so tried to make it curl with water and oils, or arranging itself into obnoxious little ringlets one day when she wished to wear her hair up, and of course the ringlets made it thicker so it was more difficult to bind. Today, though, it was straight... for the most part.

She peered through her window. Today was a good day. Perfect for gathering flowers. She grinned to herself and ran off to find Lucretia.

* * *

><p>"... just don't wander too far," Lucretia warned. She had just finished instructing Ariane where to gather flowers. They were a ways from the City, in a thicket of trees. Ariane nodded to her and her husband (who was a guarfd) and ran off. The two lovers looked at each other, and settled down beneath the willow tree to talk.<p>

Ariane smiled in delight. "And you will go along just splendidly!" She exclaimed to a yellow flower. She plucked it and laid it carefully in her basket so as to not bruise the petals. A low growl from the bushes directly in front of her caused her to freeze like a deer when it catches sight of the hunter. Suddenly, an orc burst forth. She dropped her basket in fright. Her breathing quickened, and she felt her left palm tingle. She clenched it.

"Ah, what've we he-are? A purty girl maid? Whut a tasssty meal you shall make. Perfect for my tummy!" It snaps its jaws together, making a biting sound. She blanched as it slowly approached, wielding a twisted machete. It waved it around, "Neow, deon't ye make a run fer it, er I'll be startin' on ye whiles youse still breathes!" She took a step back. If she focused her power on his chest, maybe it would overwhelm his heart, provided he even had a heart. He swung his sword, and she lifted her hand... a shrouded figure upon a horse burst forth from the trees and let fly an arrow which pierced its chest, protruding grossly from the place where its heart should be. Its face contorted into a twisted grimace of fury and pain, then it fell to the ground. Within moments, her upper arms were clasped tightly in the strangers hands. The stranger pulled her a bit away from the corpse, as if it was something which was mar her for life. Little did he know she know she had seen death before; it did tramatize her, but not in the way he expected. It brought back... memories...

"Are you well, my lady?" A smooth voice inquired of her. She swallowed heavily.

"Yes, my lord, thank you... who are you, if I may be so bold to ask?"

He released her and threw back his travel-stained dark green hood, revealing dark hair which fell to his shoulders and a pale, stern face from which a pair of keen gray eyes gazed at her with concern. "I am called Strider. It is lucky happen-chance I was traveling through today."

She nodded briskly. "Thank you, again. I am Ariane."

"Are you sure you are not a Lady, Ariane?" He said with a smile. Her eyes locked on his lips. Though he had some stubble, he was quite handsome.

"Well... I am, but that does not matter."

"Nay? I suppose it does not. Did you wander here alone?"

"Indeed I did not, my companions are over yonder," She gestured in the general direction of Lucretia and Deraton.

"I daresay you should keep closer to your chaperones next time, and bring a dagger," He said, eying the lack of weaponry at her side.

"My bow is being repaired, and my dagger sharpened," She replied wistfully, "Though I should've thought to ask for replacements until the work was done. But a guard came along, and orcs have not been spotted this near yet. They have hardly ventured closer than Osgiliath."

"Ah, I see. I wonder why you were allowed to come this far from them, but alas it is not my place. I take it you hail from Gondor?"

"Yes. I was raised in a village a few days horseback from here. It was burnt about five months ago, on the day of my wedding. I was to marry a lord, but he was also slain. As he did not have any family or heirs, and the lord Steward knew my story was valid, he deemed me the heir of his title. Thus, I am now residing in the White City, with a title I did not want, and a grief that is indefinite."

He offered his codolences, and his arm. She took it and he started back to Lucretia and Deraton with her. He whistled, and she could hear the horse following along behind them.


	7. A Basket of Flowers

They walked back to the city, Deraton warily eying Strider the whole way. It was obvious he did not trust the Ranger cloaked in green. Deraton motioned to her to fall back behind the two. Strider glanced at them, then looked away. It was none of his business what the two had to discuss. Besides, his keen ears could hear them.

"He has a mistrusting air about him. I doubt whether we should bring him back with us. He could be a spy." Strider did his best not to roll his eyes. He did nothing to let them know that he could hear them. Lucretia stole a few glances back, being completely human, she could not decipher more than their muted voices.

"I doubt he would have bothered to save my life had he been a spy. Do not judge him just because he is dirty and unkempt." It took all his self control not to laugh. Yes, he had a disheveled appearance, but what was to be expected of a Ranger?

"Of course you would not think so! Which is exactly why he did it!"

"Give him the benefit of the doubt, Deraton, can you not?"

"Nay! Especially not in times like these! He is lucky I did not shoot him on sight! Like other guards may have done in these dark times."

"So you doubt him just because he is not properly groomed like you? You would-nay, you do- look about the same when you come home from hunting or any other trip which requires you to be far from the comfort of the baths and launders."

"Still, he seems rather foul."

"Aye, he does look rather foul. I daresay he shall look handsome enough once he's cleaned up. I think one of the Enemy's spies would-well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand."

Deraton thought on that a moment. Reluctantly, he replied, "Aye, so it would seem. But I still have misgivings about this." He lengthened his strides and caught up with the rest of the group.

* * *

><p>Deraton emerged from the Hall and addressed Strider, "Denethor is too busy to see you, but he sends his well-wishes and gratitude to you for saving the Lady Ariane, as his son has become very much attached to her." Strider inwardly sighed thankfully. He would surely have had to make up a name for himself and his father if he had been admitted to Denethor. He still had some time to think on it. He glanced over at the Lady. Her cheeks were tinged pink and her eyes were focused on a cobblestone in front of her feet. He looked up at Deraton and thanked him, not missing the sly glance he stole at Ariane. He had probably thrown in that last part to test her reaction; knowing Denethor he would never have said that.<p>

"As part of his thanks and to express his disappointment in being too busy to grant you an audience, he has requested I show you a room, which you can stay in for a fortnight or so," He hinted.

Strider bowed his head, "Or so, yes. Thank you kindly."

Deraton led him away to his room. Ariane's eyes followed them until they were out of sight. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand covered her shoulder from behind. She spun around, and her eyes locked onto the startles eyes of Boromir.

"Begging your pardon, Lady Ari, I meant not to frighten you," He apologized sincerely. Well, almost. There was a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

She snorted, the bubble in the brook. "I am sure you did not, 'Mir." He rolled his eyes. He held out his arm and she took it.

"We have a new guest."

"Oh? Do _we_ now?" She blushed.

"Yes, his name is Strider."

He raised an eyebrow, "Strider?"

"Aye, that is the name he has thus far disclosed. He saved my life today." At that his other eyebrow shot up.

"And, pray tell, how did this happen?"

She told him the story. He furrowed his brow.

"So he just happened along when you were in need of aid? Suspicious, quite."

Ariane let out an exasperated sigh, "Yes! What is it with you people and your suspicions of everybody?"

He stopped and turned halfway to face her. "In times like these, it would be folly to open somebody with open arms. Even yourself, my Lady, people were at first suspicious of. Of course, once they heard your story, all suspicions evaporated. Even the more wary ones believe now that I myself told them. And if the people would be suspicious of such a beautiful, young little maid, of course they would be suspicious of a tall, grungy traveler, male and alone nonetheless."

"I understand. But I still owe him my life," She said grudgingly.

"Indeed, though that means not that you owe him your allegiance. I do recall a certain charming Captain of Gondor also rescuing you a few months back," He said with a playful smile as they resumed their walk.

"Well, I wouldn't say 'charming'..." She drawled.

"How about: dashing, handsome, courageous, admirable, lovable, daring, irresistible?" He joked. She laughed.

"Nay, I believe narcissistic, loathsome, vile, detestable, cowardly would suffice."

He clutched his heart with his free hand in mock pain, "Ooh, that hurts m'lady! Good thing the wonderful Captain isn't here to hear you speak so ill of him!"

Ariane's sweet laugh echoed around the stone courtyard. This was his daily goal; to hear that which was sweeter than any ballad the minstrels sang.

* * *

><p>Strider thanked the maid and handed her a small flower from the basket. She blushed and took it, thanking him with a smile and a wink. He did not return the flirtatious smile nor wink, but continued on his way to <em>her<em> room. He wished to know the maiden whom he had helped yesterday better. She was quite charming and had sparked a flame in his chest which he had no wish to ignite. So why was he seeking her out? _To return her basket,_ he told himself, though he know it was a poor excuse when he could have easily given it to a maid with the directions to return it to the Lady. Ariane. A plain and simple name, but one he had not heard before. He repeated it aloud softly. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue. His thoughts ended in a flurry when he stopped outside her chamber door. The maid had directed him to stop in front of the door which had two small tables on either side, with a vase of assorted flowers the Lady had picked. Apparently, she had a fondness for flowers.

He rapped his knuckles against the hard polished wood of the door.

"Enter, if you please!" A voice he recognized with a smile called from inside. He pushed open the door with his shoulder. His eyes wandered around the room briefly, taking everything in. They settled on the Lady, who was standing atop a stool on her tiptoes with a book in hand, trying desperately to place it back on the very top shelf. She glanced over her shoulder, turned back to her struggle with the book, and whipped her head back to him again in surprise.

"My lord Strider! What are you doing he-ahh!" She lost her balance and toppled from the wobbly stool. In one quick motion, he moved quickly to her and caught her small frame smoothly in his arms. She grinned up at him bashfully.

"Erm, thanks for saving me... again." He chuckled and placed her on her feet. She smoothed out her cream colored dress.

"Think naught of it, my Lady," He said silkily.

A blush creeped across her fair cheeks. She smiled, and he was surprised to see a dimple in her right cheek, "It seems every time I have met you I have needed rescuing." He nodded.

"I came with something that I believe belongs to you," He turned around and retrieved the basket, swooping the few flowers back into it that had slipped out when he dropped it suddenly.

"Ahm, a basket of flowers..?" She asked slowly. Suddenly recognition flashed in her eyes. "Oh! I forgot them yesterday in the clearing when... you came!" He chuckled again.

"Yes, so it would seem. Here," He handed them to her. She took the basket in one hand and touched them lightly with the other.

"They wilted a bit," She murmured regretfully, "But they yet live." She set them down on a small, low table and went to a large cabinet built into the otherside of the wall. She pulled out a large vase and set it on the table. She hurried to her room and walked out carefully with a pitcher in hand. Both hands, in fact. She poured the water into the vase, then arranged the flowers prettily inside of it. She stood back and admired her work.

"There." She said, putting a lot of pride into that simple word. Then she snatched up the basket and whisked it away to the cupboard. She tripped over an upturned corner of the carpet and the basket flew out of her hands. She landed on her hands and knees with an eloquent "Oooff!"

Strider hastened over to her. "Are you alright, Lady Ariane?"

"Fine, fine." He helped her up, and she brushed off her knees. Her face was now a furious shade of red. Hanging her head so her bangs covered her face, so collected the basket and put it safely in the cupboard.

"You may be nearly as pretty as an elleth, but you do not have the grace of one!" He chuckled for the third time, puzzling himself.

This caused her to blush again, from pleasure at being called pretty (or... maybe ugly?) and from shame at being called ungraceful (for surely an elleth was graceful if she had not the grace of one, since she had no grace to speak of?).

"Erm... what exactly is an elleth?" She asked, her eyes fascinated by everything in the room but the tall mysterious stranger who had managed to fluster her so.

"A she-elf." This simple statement caused her to blush even harder, turning her face a very unbecoming shade of burgundy. "Nearly as pretty as an elleth" he had said. What a compliment that was.

"Aye, a compliment indeed," She looked up at him, startled, her face finally paling. Could he read minds?

As if in answer to her question, he said, "Nay, you merely spoke aloud."

Not knowing what else to say, she asked hospitably, "Would my Lord care for a cup of tea? I'd offer something stronger, but..." She let her voice trail off. He knew very well what she meant; a female could not drink with a male, or a male drink near a female (or visa versa) while alone in eachothers company, for propriety's sake. Unless of course, they were wed. Which they were definitely not. _Not yet_, a voice in his head said. He shook his head. Where had that come from?

He smiled with gratitude. "I would love a cup of tea, if you don't mind." She smiled and walked to the corner of the room where the bell-rope hung, and pulled it gently, summoning Lucretia.

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN<span>: YES! Two chapters in ONE day! SCORE! Now, as a gift (and an incentive to write more faster) you should click that poor, forlorn review button which is so often ignored by you readers. I know I have 3x the number of people reading this than the number of reviewers... I do get notifications when you add my story to your watch list (and thank you for adding it if you're one of those people-I appreciate it! It makes me feel better knowing it's good enough (or dumb in a funny way) for you to want to keep reading.  
>On the note of Aragorn taking a liking to Ari, you can pretend that him and Arwen got in a fight or never met, or something. Either way, he's not involved with her and therefor not being unfaithful.<br>And a HUGE thanks to those of you who have reviewed. Without you, the rest of the people wouldn't be reading this chapter right now.**

**Review Replies:**

** _heavenlydragan_: Thanks again!(:**

_**Snips95;**_** Not at all; I got the idea from my own experiences... not including the tipping of the tub, though. Mine is firmly plastered onto the tiles of the bathroom floor ;]**

_**Certh;**_** Thanks! I think you'll be happy to know that I decided she will NOT be joining the Fellowship, as I've decided this takes place before the War of the Ring when Boromir was still young, closer to Ari's 17 years.**

_**Metoochocolate;**_** Thanks for reviewing, and for such a nice review. About your cookie... it's a definite possibly I misplaced it... in my mouth... but no worries, I'll have my giraffe whip up another batch.(;**


	8. A Pleasure, I'm Sure

**I keep forgetting to do disclaimers, so here's the last one: I own all characters you do not reconize, and the plot, and some of the places. Obviously not Minas Tirith. I'm making no money of any kind off of this, I just enjoy writing. I hope you enjoy and please, review, even if the story is complete by the time you read it, it truly means a lot.**

* * *

><p>He leaned back in his chair and propped his legs up on the stool. He looked past her toward the window, which he could see easily through the open door of her bed chambers. The sun had long since set.<p>

He sighed regretfully, "I believe it is time I take my leave." She twisted around in her chair and leaned for a glimpse. He admired her figure, then averted his eyes. It was not courteous to look at someone like that, especially when she was not looking. She turned back to him and he lifted his eyes to hers.

"Aye, it is." She said sadly. Then with a smile she asked, "Are you going to come visit me tomorrow?"

Strider smiled, "If my lady wishes it to be so." She blushed slightly and lowered her gaze to the tea tray.

"Aye, she does."

"Then it will most certainly be so." A pretty pink crept into her cheeks. He smiled at how easy it was to make her blush, and he felt a movement on the left side of his chest. He stood up abruptly. Holding out his hand with a flourish to her, he bowed. She grinned and slipped her hand into his. He gently tugged her upright, and brushed a kiss against her knuckes.

"On the morrow, then." She nodded enthusiastically. She took her hand back and walked to the door in small, quick steps. She opened it, and he stepped outside. After saying their goodnights, he took his leave of her. Sighing, she stacked the tea things onto the tray, to make less work for Lucretia when she came up in the morning. After checking again to make sure she had latched the lock, she changed into her sleeping gown, slipped into the soft covers, and closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>Boromir yawned and stretched. He felt great, refreshed. He was once again in Minas Tirith. He had returned three days ago, when the Ranger had come. His father knew not that their newest visitor was indeed a Ranger, just that he had saved the Lady Ariane's life. Boromir couldn't help but bestow a silent blessing on the stranger, what would Ariane have done without him? She was lucky to be alive.<p>

But that didn't mean he wasn't wary of the Ranger.

This... Strider... something just didn't fall well with him. He didn't seem evil or sneaky, but that didn't mean he wasn't hiding something. In face, Boromir was sure he was. Only... was the secret for better or for worse? Boromir wanted to find out. And woe on him if the secret boded ill for anything or anyone Boromir held dear!

With a mighty yawn and a bear stretch, he forced himself out of bed. Today he would visit Ariane. The thought cheered him up out of his bleak mood. He pulled on a pair of breeches, boots, and a tunic, hastily secured his dagger around his waist, and strode purposefully towards the door. He hesitated at the knob, however, when a loud growl from the vicinity of his stomach reached his ears. Maybe I'll stop for breakfast first, he thought to himself. That would ensure Ariane was awake also, though he knew that she had been awaking with the sun for the seven days passed. Anxious to see Ariane again, he hurried on his way.

The door swung open. "My lord-Boromir!" Ariane's eyes widened in surprise, then wrinkled in a wide smile of pleasure.

He bowed low, "My lady."

"I did not expect you. Please, come in." She swung the door open and bade him enter. He did so, and sat a ways back from the small fire.

She settled in the bowl chair. "And what brings you here this fine moring, Gray Eyes?" She asked inquisitively. He propped his legs up on the stool.

"It has been a while since we sat and talked. I wondered how you've been faring?"

"Just fine. Strider kept me company yester-night over tea. He told me about the places he's traveled; Rohan, Holland, Breeland, the Shire, even Rivendell!" Her eyes sparkled at her last proclamation.

"He's visited Rivendell? With the elves?" Boromir was impressed, and slightly jealous. Not many Men were allowed to see the Last Homely House.

"Indeed! I so desire to see the world as he has. To be a Ranger," She leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand.

"I shall take you to see all of Middle Earth," Her head popped up, eyes shining with hope, "As soon as the Shadow recedes." She frowned.

"And when will it? When will the orcs back down and leave our lands be? When shall it soon be safe to traverse the land with only a single companion as your guard? When will we be able to leave the gates of the city without having an escort? When will our villages be safe?" Tears threatened to spill over. With a choked sigh, she closed her eyes to compose himself. Boromir startled her by taking her hands in his.

"We _will_ defeat the Enemy. One day soon, our people will no longer have to worry about leaving the City alone. One day soon, we will not have to worry about whether or not our fathers, brothers, or sons will come back. One day soon, we will be free from the Shadow.

He wiped the tears off her cheeks.

"Ariane, please do not cry." He hated seeing her cry. "There is a ball tonight..."

Ariane let out a sad laugh. "Oh?"

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip. Would she refuse to go? There had been few balls in the past five months she had been here-to help keep everybody's spirits up there was a monthly ball-but she had gone to none, preferring to shut herself inside her chambers with her grief. She had met none of the other Ladies of the City, instead walking around the lower levels conversing with the peasants. Not that it bothered him; he preferred them to the drab Lords and Ladies, but it was expected for her to show at some social events. Besides, she was new to Ladyship and everybody was rather curious about this mere girl Lord Belgorth had deemed worthy of his partnership for the rest of his life. Not that Lord Belgorth had been held high in anyones esteems-he had been a graying man of about 50 or 60, ate more than his share, and had always chased after the maids. However, he had been tolerated as a Lord and having noble blood.

"I was hoping you would show for this one? And hopefully grant me a dance or two?" He asked slowly, praying with all of his being she would respond positively.

"I... I suppose so... as long as I can leave at any time..." She drawled slowly. He resisted the urge to fist-pump the air. He had only felt more triumphant when he was on the battlefield.

"But of course! Oh, you'll love it!" He smiled warmly at her.

* * *

><p>The sun was beginning to set, its rays clinging to the landscape, bathing the world in a warm golden light. The grasses seemed to ripple towards the sun, as if begging it to stay a while longer. The moon was climbing higher, starting to caress the land with its cool, silvery glow. The effect was quite breathtaking, and Ariane hovered a moment longer than necessary at her window, just gazing out. She was captivated by its beauty, always had loved this time where day meets night, then the Sun gives way to the Moon.<p>

"Come come! We _must_ get you into the ball gown!" Lucretia tugged Ariane away from the window in a flurry.

"Which one am I to wear?" Ari asked Lucretia bemusedly.

"Well. Either this, _this_, this, or this. Oh! What about _this_!" With every "this" Lucretia tossed a dress out onto the table. "This" was a purple satin gown, a midnight blue gown, a white and silver gown, and a pale green dress with light purple trimming. Ariane picked up the last one and held it up.

"How about this?" Lucretia looked at her for a moment thoughtfully.

"Wait here, and _don't move a muscle!_" With that command, she scurried out of the room. Ariane laughed in puzzlement at her friends antics, and changed as best she could into the gown (she couldn't do the lacing's in the back without help), and hung the others up.

Impatiently, she switched her weight from one foot to the other, wondering what in the world Lucretia could be doing before such an important event.

After what seemed like ages, Lucretia rushed back into the room, breathless. A package was clutched tightly to her chest.

"Take that thing off _now_," She said with a gleam in her eye. Curiously, Ariane did as she was bade, and stood naked before her maid, slightly embarrassed though Lucretia had seen her nude at least once a day for the past five months.

Lucretia grinned and pulled the cloth off the bundle. Ariane gasped. Lucretia held in her hands a buttercup-yellow dress, with a tight bodice which laced up-though merely for decoration. The top skirt had slits about a hands' width apart, revealing a longer, paler yellow skirt underneath. The sleeves barely covered the shoulders, and revealed much of the chest; dropping in a low U to flaunt the tops of the wearers bosoms, but just enough so she could retain her modesty. Ariane's jaw dropped nearly to the floor, and her eyes widened to the size of a saucer.

"Is that...?" She let the question hang in the air. Lucretia giggled like a young maid.

"My mother made it for me when I first married Deraton-she's the best seamstress in Gondor, you know-and I have only been able to wear it a handful of times. It is too elegant for me, being a mere maid for my Lady... though it goes so well with you! It brings out the gold in your eyes and hair." Lucretia told her fondly.

Ariane's eyes shone brightly as she thanked her dear friend. Lucretia waved her hand, assuring her it was nothing, but warning her that if she ruined her gown, she would claim her head.

"Now, let's get you ready for that ball!"

* * *

><p>The ball had been going on for nearly an hour and still there was no sign of Ariane. Boromirs' heart dropped. Had she backed out? He had not been able to retrieve her as he had been engaged greeting the guests with his father.<p>

This particular ball was one where the servants were able to don their finest and dance with the Lords and Ladies alike. Half the staff were mingling among the Nobles, and the others were still serving. Next month, the serving servants would be the dancing servants, and visa versa.

A hush fell over the crowd. His back was to the main entrance, face to his father. Denethors eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Boromir turned around in confusion to see what the fuss was about-or rather, lack of fuss. His jaw hit the floor when he beheld her descending the steps, twin roses blooming on her cheeks, first pink, and now steadily deepening into red. She was, in a word, stunning.

Boromirs' eyes weren't the only ones glued upon her. Indeed, not an eye was wandering in a different direction. But this man was also struggling to breathe, her name the repeating itself over and over in his head. Strider also was watching her. He was about to get out of his seat to offer her his arm, when the Stewards eldest son bowed low in front of her.

Ariane bit her lip and took his arm with a slight smile; the largest she could muster. With a cutting glance from their Lord, the chatter resumed, though this time a certain female was the main topic.

"My lord Steward," Ariane curtsied low.

Smiling, he took her hand in his. "Please, my child, address me as Denethor. As you are on familiar enough terms with my dear son to call him by his given name, I would also have you take the same liberty with me." She nodded. She had seen little of him over the past few months, save during the two feasts.

A Lady came over, slim hand lightly resting on her companions arm.

"Excuse me, my liege, but is this the infamous Lady Ariane?" The woman asked in a curious tone. There was a hint of another emotion, though Ariane couldn't quite place it. Denethor looked over at Ariane, silently giving her leave to answer.

"Yes, I am." Ariane extended a hand toward the Lady. She felt the others fingertips touch her own light as a butterfly, as if Ariane were a delicate dandelion-clock.

"A pleasure, I'm sure," Her mouth curved in a delighted smile, though her eyes belied her pleasure, "I am Lady Wilwarin."

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><p><strong><span>AN:<span> 2,366 words! Yay. Reviews help me write faster, I'll give you gummy bears if you give me a lovely review. Or at least a longish one. Telling me what to work on, and what parts of it you like, so I know what to work on and what to do more of!(:**


	9. Swirls And Loops

**Review Replies: Snips95; Thank you so much for the great reviews! I'm glad you got that vibe from her; that's what I was aiming for.  
>Metoochocolate; Thank you very much! . On Lady Wilwarin, you probably can't remember her since the last chapter is the first chapter she was mentioned in. Your ideas for Ariane are pretty good... but I'm not saying whether you're right or not (since that would ruin the story, and I'm not even sure yet).<br>ZollySealand; Are you sure? Maybe her and Aragorn will end up together and live happily ever after(;  
>Remember, I've twisted Mister Tolkiens' world into my own; Aragorn isn't in love with Arwen. At the very most, he has an adoration for her. But they're not in any way bound.<strong>

**AN:**** Sorry for such slow chapters, I must have done something to upset my muse... I'm also working on two other stories (A LotR and a Secret Country Trilogy one-if you haven't read the books, you should do so; they're by Pamela Dean) and I'm trying to decide where to go from the beginnings. Anyway, I'm trying. Hope you enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to leave a little review for me :3 Reviews inspire me... *hint hint*  
>Oh, and Strider (Aragorn) is going by Abrazân while here in Gondor-I hope you'll remember that he didn't want to be known as the heir of Isildur... Abrazân means "Steadfast." I found that on - real elvish . net -<strong>

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><p>Gladly, Ariane accepted Boromir's invitation to dance, avoiding Lady Wilwarins fierce look she shot at her from underneath her lashes. Nobody else seemed to be noticing the Lady's hostility towards her. Maybe she was imagining it... or maybe Wilwarin was very good at disguising it.<p>

Her thoughts flew out of her head as Boromir swirled her around the ballroom floor, twirling around in loops, weaving in between the other couple's like it was a much practiced dance. Indeed, it was, for in the Gondor cities there was a ball (if not two) a month. She marveled at the difference of the cities and villages. Though, maybe they weren't too different... the villagers did like their ale and pub.

Ariane's light laugh rang out, laugh, light, even more captivating than ever before.

Boromirs' heart felt like it'd been squeezed when she looked into his eyes and laughed so sincerly; a true laugh.

Across the room in the shadows, Strider was worrying the inside of his cheek, wondering why she captivated him so.

Standing by the Steward, Lady Wilwarin watched the doxy with a smoldering glint in her eye, doing her best to make her acute displeasure.

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><p>Abrazân. Personally not a name he would want to be called, but it was what he came up with on short notice. He had known he should have decided long before he arrived at the city, but he had repeatedly put it off. It would do.<p>

Strider sat at a bench off to the side of the room, biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes on the main couple looping around. Indeed, many eyes were discretely watching the new Lady while she was draped on the son of the Steward. Who was she to come into Nobility from no where and catch the most sought after bachelor in all of Gondor?

Wilwarin cooly accepted the hand of a young Lord. He whisked her onto the dance floor. There was no denying he knew what he was doing, but Wilwarin could not look at him for more than a few seconds before loosing interest, as there was nothing out of the ordinary about his features. Especially his eyes. They were plain gray.

Boromir bowed low to Ariane after their dance. Taking his arm, she let him guide her off to the side of the room.

"If you'll forgive me, I fear I must dance with the other Ladies also, for my father shall throw a fit if I neglect them," Boromir said with a quick wink, "But I shall claim you in a few more dances tonight." He kissed the top of her hand and strode purposefully-if not hesitantly-away.

She was standing there, a few feet from him, twirling a curl that had been skillfully left out of the stunning mass atop her head. Her golden dress enhanced her fine figure, her lightly bronzed skin, and the gold in her hair. She was absolutely breath taking. Shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly, already surrounded by Ladies galore who wanted to know more about this mysterious girl. He waited 'til the song was over, then approached her.

"My lady," He started, bowing low, "If I may be so bold as to ask your hand in the next dance?"

She smiled, seeing who it was. "But of course, Abrazân! It shall be a pleasure." He took her offered hand and with a nod to her companions who were looking at him curiously, gently tugged her to the dance floor.

"Why is it she has the most attractive men ask her to dance," One of the girls asked nobody in particular dreamily.

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><p>"They make me so nervous! I am always fearing I shall say the wrong thing," Ariane revealed to him.<p>

"I honestly prefer nature over Man. Nature, you know what to expect; you know to be cautious. Men, they can lie, make you love them, then rip your heart out of your chest while you yet draw breath."

Ariane laughed, "Sounds like you're describing a woman. Nature can be harsh, too."

"That is true." Expertly he swirled her out of the way of a spinning couple. Deciding they needed fresh air, they went onto a balcony. Ariane leaned against the smooth marble and sighed. It was a pleasant night out. The stars were shining brightly in the sky like gems, emphasized by the canvas of black sky they were nestled in. The whole realm of Gondor lay at her feet. Bathed in the milky light of the moon, the outline of the trees were clearly visible. A bird flew across her vision, attracting the gaze of her light purple eyes. They were so light, in fact, they could almost be mistaken for grey... unless they were in the right lighting, and the light hit them in just the right angle so as to make them glow a near amethystine color. She stood a while in silence, eyes full of the breathtaking landscape. His eyes were full of a breathtaking young woman by the name of Ariane.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the balcony as she was. Without turning his head, he asked her,

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to fly?"

A sweet, light laugh. "Not in many a year." She turned slightly to him. "Do you?"

He studied the stars for a moment. "Aye, I do. It is like a whole 'nother plane up there. Who knows what is above those clouds? Mayhaps there is a whole 'nother civilization up there, living atop the clouds, looking down, wondering what it would be like to be rooted to the ground; not to have the wind dictate where you are, what you see."

"Mayhaps someday you shall build a flying contraption."

"Yes," He mused, "Mayhaps. A glider? A flyer?" He spouted out several more possibilities for the flying contraption.

"An airplane!" Ariane said excitedly. "For the skies are indeed as another plane; an air plane." He laughed.

"Aye, that would work."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

"I suppose I should go back inside. I think I am going to retire soon, after one or two more dances." He nodded his agreement and escorted her back inside, where he was immediately whisked away by his father, with an apology and a kiss on the hand to Ariane. She smiled when Boromir kept glancing back at her and making faces when he thought his father wasn't looking. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned her head. A bright smile lit up her face.

"Abrazân!" She exclaimed.

He bowed, "How are you this eve, Lady Ariane?"

"I am quite well, and yourself?"

"Very well."

The two remained quiet, uncomfortably so. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it, shut it, cleared his throat, and opened it again. He then shut it. Noticing this from the corner of her eye, Ariane felt she knew what he wanted to say. Though it was against protocol, Ariane decided to ease his mind a bit.

"Will you do me the honor of standing up with me?" Grateful-and a bit flustered at her courage-he accepted. They danced for a while, the only noises they made were of laughter if one of them accidentally stepped on the others' toes.

"I thought you would've known how to dance perfectly," Aragorn cajoled.

"And why is that?" Ariane tried to sound perplexed, but failed, instead sounded amused.

"Well, being a Lady of Minas Tirith, one would think you would have had ample practice."

"Aye, one would; but I was not a Lady nor of Minas Tirith until a few months ago," She countered.

"Ah, that explains it then." His hands circled her waist, lifting her up in the air and swirling in a half circle and then setting her down again, spinning her away and twirling her back in. The dance ended and all the dancers bowed/curtsied to their partners. A lively tune began to play, one that did not have steps assigned to it. He guided her to the refreshment table and poured two glasses of wine.

"Thirsty?" He asked, offering a glass to her.

"Parched." She accepted the wine with a grateful nod of her head.

"There you are! You troublesome, elusive little creature!" Ariane's eyes widened and she spun around. A woman in a deep green dress nearly collided with her, and Ariane lifted her full glass away from her body. It was extraordinary that not a drop was spilt.

"Lucretia!" Ari exclaimed.

"I've been on the lookout fer youse allll nigh**-*hiccup***-ight." Lucretia drew the corners of her mouth down, her bottom teeth covering her top lip. She looked quite comical.

Ariane's brows furrowed. "Oh my dear friend, how much have you been drinking?"

"I-me-are you accusing me of _drinking?_"

"Nay, only asking how _much_ you drank, as it is quite clear you've be-"

"Ayy! I don't _stoop_ as to what you are _insinuating_, little missy."

"I am insinuating that you, my friend, are _drunk._"

Lucretia disengaged herself from Ariane's free arm, and Ariane tried to turn to set the glass on the table, but Aragorn took it. She thanked him, and turned to her maid and closet friend.

"I am ***hiccup*** not!"

"I think it's time you went to bed," Ariane sighed, "Abrazân, I am sorry, but-"

He waved, cutting her off, "It is fine, my Lady, just take care of your friend." She thanked him and bid him goodnight, and quickly but carefully guided Lucretia to the door. She looked back, casting a quick, searching glance over the crowd. She didn't see Boromir, so she continued on her way.

* * *

><p>She had had to ask a few servants along the way where Lucretia's chambers were, but finally she found them. She helped her out of her dress and into a nightgown, even tucking her in.<p>

"Ayy, wait, you're not supposed... I'm supposed... your maid." Lucretia murmured feebly.

"Goodnight, my friend." Ariane kissed her brow, "I hoe for your sake you do not have duty tomorrow." Lucretia mumbled something in reply, but Ariane was already out the door, going as fast as she could without running to her chambers.


	10. Spineless Gut Worm

**AN:**** I'm not going to do review replies up here anymore; it's too annoying. Disclaimers are also unneccasary, as you should know I merely own the plot-and Lady Ariane, Wilwarin, Avari, and Aragorns' new name; Abrazân. Reviews telling me what you (dis)like about the story help me write faster! Ideas or suggestions welcome.**

**It's the last day of school today-I'm finally a freshman! No... not a college freshie either. I feel so young; most other writers here are college students. Happy Solstice guys. Blessed Be!**

**...oh, and it's the Third Day of Aragorn (Abrazân as he's known in this story) residing in Minas Tirith. Just writing this here so you don't forget.  
>Okay, maybe it's so I don't forget... *stalks away grumbling at the unfairness of it all* <strong>

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><p>Ariane rolled over, and immediately felt something hard jab into her left cheek bone. Faster than the speed of light she snapped up and gazed down at the offending item. <em>What in Mordor is a carrot doing in my bed?<em> she thought mildly. Then, _Ahhmiheeeeed!_ As a jagged flash of pain assailed her head. Immediately she fell back on the bed. Apparently she had had too much wine last night. But... that wasn't possible. Lucretia had interrupted her before-Lucretia! How would she be feeling? She had been drunker than a halfling locked in a tavern cellar. With a groan of reluctance, Ariane rose slowly out of bed, gingerly touching her temples. Thankfully they weren't throbbing. Lingering a moment to see if a thunder would rumble in her head, she decided she must have shot up out of her bed too fast.

Quickly she slipped out of her crumpled night dress and donned fresh garments. She made her way back to her the side of her bed to gather the golden ball gown so she could properly fold it and return it. Her eyes alighted on the carrot that had intruded her bed. Thinking that she couldn't just leave it there, she hastily shoved it in her pocket. Stifling a yawn, she slipped from her chambers and dragged herself down to the lower levels where Lucretia lived.

* * *

><p>"Gromay," Mumbled the Thing under the dishevelled quilts that littered the bed.<p>

"Wake up, my dear. How are we feeling this morning?" Was Ari's cheerful reply.

Lucretia popped her head out from beneath the blankets. Her bleary eyed glare and unkempt appearance made it difficult to contain her laughter which was threatening to burst from her lips like a waterfall.

"Go. A. Way." Lucretia grabbed hold of the blankets' edge," R'now!" She once again disappeared under them.

"Well, someone's feeling chipper this morning." Ariane murmered with a slight grin. Slightly louder, she said,"How's your head feeling?"

The blankets were tossed off, and a blur was all Ari could see of Lucretia. Her eyes widened when she saw the trajectory of the missile flying towards her. She ducked instinctively, and it hit the wall behind her. She cast a glance behind her to see what the offending item was; a shoe. Lucretia had thrown a shoe at Ariane. Ari looked back at Lucretia, flabbergasted.

"You spineless gut worm! You yellow-spotted toad! You moth-eaten flea ball! You crumpy snoggan! You rejected floogal!" With one last vengeful glare, Lucretia dove back into the bed, yanking up the blankets and cocooning herself within them. Ari's jaw hung losely for a few moments, then she snapped it shut and the corners of her mouth quirked. She let out a breath of air through her nose which sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"Yes, well, thanks for noticing. I beg your pardon for attempting to awaken you from your slumber. Your ball gown is on the chair in front of your dressing mirror."

Lucretia snored softly in reply.

Ari let herself out and quietly shut the door. _Where to now_, she wondered to herself. She _was_ feeling rather lonely, but she knew Boromir was probably sleeping still, or in Council with his father. They surely wouldn't appreciate a lowly used-to-be farm girl. Abrazân also was probably still asleep. Suddenly, it came to her. She hadn't visited someone very important to her in a week or more, someone whom she now loved above all others...

* * *

><p>"Get your filthy nose away from me, you prat," She tried to prevent the mirth from seeping into her words, but she couldn't help it. She pushed Avari's muzzle away affectionately. "You'll be the death of me, upon my honor, I swear it!"<p>

Avari nickered softly but firmly as if in agreement.

"I wish I had a treat for you," Ari said lightly, her voice tinged with regret. Suddenly, she remembered her rude awakener. She slipped her hand into her pocket and her fingers closed around the hard orange carrot. She pulled it forth and held it out to Avari, palm flat, thumb pulled in. With a twitch of her nose, Avari sniffed the carrot. Deeming it worthy, she delicately took it from her master and munched it. She nudged her shoulder and left her head there. Ariane patted her neck, running her hands down the thick muscles that rippled underneath the chestnut skin. She loved this horse, more than anything alive. Thoughts of her family played the strings of her heart with a sharp twang. It had been five moons-nearly six now-but yet the pain had not lessened.

After all the patting and stroking, Avari threw her head up restlessly. Ariane wanted to take her out and ride her, yet she could not. Not without an escort of at least five men, and surely they did not want to waste their time.

Though, Deraton did mention how boring his job got when there were no immediate threats...

* * *

><p>"Nay, I cannot spare the men," Deraton replied dismissively.<p>

"B-b-but Deraton! I'm _dying!_ It's positively _sweltering_ in here, and I'm getting _smothered_ in compliments and bows and glares and well-wishes and stares and smiles and frowns an-"

"No." He replied firmly, not breaking stride. She quickened her pace and strode along beside him, clasping his forearm.

"Please? I've had _such _a bad day; I got woken up to a carrot poking me in the face, then I had to walk _all_ the way to your home to return Lucretia's dress, got called a spineless gut worm for all my good efforts, then got a _shoe_ thrown at me for being concerned. Then, then! a stable hand chided me-a boy no older than ten and one summers mind you-for brushing Avari in her stall instead of leading her ou-"

"_Fine._ But you must find four others to accompany us, or we're not going. Come find me whe-"

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Her eyes shone with appreciation. "You won't be sorry!" She let go of his arm and scurried away to weave her charming web around some poor soldier and pull him in. He chuckled. Goddess help whomever she first came across dressed in the garb of the palace garb.


	11. Escape

**AN: Wow, sorry it's been so long. You're probably going to have to go back and read the previous chapter, if you've read this before.  
>If anybody out there thinks they can finish this story, PMReview me and say so. I'll tell you the ideas I had for it. I just can't finish this story. Maybe we can work together, I can edit your chapters, you can edit mine, we can add to the others' chapters... otherwise this story is going to take years to finish. I'm not really interested in it anymore, I'm sorry to say. I don't think I portray Strider (Abrazân) correctly anyway. Please, please help me out here. **

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><p>After a time, Ariane had persuaded four other off-duty guards to escort her outside of the City. She was now chatting companionably with the last of the four, a shy guard by the name of Berathorn. Every step of hers had a spring to it, she was so excited she could harldly contain herself. He walked stoically ahead, though the corners of his mouth quirked and threatened to curve themselves into a half-moon at her antics.<p>

Finally, they were outside the walls. A small group of people had also come, eager to escape and frolic in the Gondorian grass. A horse pulled up beside Ariane's, but she paid it no mind. That is, until the rider spoke to her.

"I must thank you, Lady, for arranging this outing," The voice of Abrazân startled her out of her dreamy state. She turned her face towards him. He was smiling softly.

"Oh, it's no problem. I was going to go stark raving mad if I was cooped up in there much longer."

He chuckled. "Yes, Gondor does get a bit stifling, even with all the levels."

She agreed. "Especially when you're used to being in a village, able to wonder off and whatnot." He opened his mouth to reply, but a young child ran up next to her.

"My Lady, one of the guard told me you arranged this adventure." He began eagerly.

She bit back a laugh. Yes, it would be an adventure to one so young.

"I am," She answered lightly. He beamed at her.

"Wonderful! I can't tell you how thankful I am, My Lady! It's been so long since I've been out. It took a lot to convince Mother to even let me out," He finished ruefully.

"My name is Ariane. Please, call me by my name, not 'My Lady.' I am only a Lady through unfortunate events." She told him. He grinned.

"As you wish!" And with that, he fell back into step with his mother.

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><p><strong>AN: See? I can't even finish writing this. I don't know why it's so hard for me. I'm just not interested any more. I don't even use a lot of detail. I'm not sure if I ever did with this story, but I do with others. I just... can't. This chapter was supposed to be loooooonnnnng, but I'll continue with this on the next chapter... if I ever get around to writing it. Or someone could helpwrite it for me... *hint hint***


	12. Race

Abrazân let out a deep, throaty laugh from beside her, and she felt her lips pull up into a smile. The guard next to him also laughed.

The head guard spoke suddenly. "This is as far out as we go. Stay close together!" Ariane looked around. They weren't that far from the gates. At least, she thought, they were out of them. She pushed a hank of deep red hair from her face. Quickly, she dismounted.

"Care for a race?" Abrazân asked from her side. She looked up at him smiling from his steed.

"Aye, though you'd best prepare to be embarrassed." He laughed again.

"And why would I be embarrassed?" He asked, dismounting.

"I hear men often become embarrassed when beaten by women," Was her simple answer, before she took off, back towards the gate. She soon heard his feet lightly pounding at the dirt behind her.

She looked behind her, and a half-shriek half-laugh noise bubbled up from the pit of her stomach. She pumped her arms as she furiously placed her feet, determined to win the race. Within a few strides, however, she caught a brown-clad shirt sidling along beside her. Enraged, she increased her pace. She threw herself at the gate, her arm outstretched, middle finger barely brushing the gate. Abrazân came to a halt beside her. He looked down at her in the dirt, started laughing, but quickly stopped in favor of breathing. Ariane rose slowly to her feet, savoring the burn in her legs and lungs. He glanced at her, and she grinned lopsidedly.

"Care for another?"

Before he could open his mouth to respond or even raise his eyebrows, she had turned and took a stride which was stopped before she could even put her foot down, when she slammed right into an ugly, leather-clad Orc.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah, not much better than the last chapter, at all.<strong>

**Just wanted to let you all know that I got a co-writer. Told her (him?) my ideas for this story, but she/he hasn't messaged back yet. Sooo you'll know how that goes in the next chapter. And hopefully once we start writing these chapters will start coming out a lot faster like they did at the beginning. **

**Sorry about that, by the way. I'm rubbish at anything longer than a few chapters. Even my original stories. Then again, I'm a teenager with a short attention span.**

**Oh, annnnd my birthday's in 15 days, on the 29th(: Of October. Happy birthday to me!**


	13. A Rather Orcish Encounter

**QueenSword: Hello! I am the new co-author! I wrote this chapter and I hope you like it! Sorry for the shortness of it.**

_Before he could open his mouth to respond or even raise his eyebrows, she had turned and took a stride which was stopped before she could even put her foot down, when she slammed right into an ugly, leather-clad Orc._

She shrieked and indulged her knee-jerk reaction of trying to get away. She pushed at the chest in front of her as a hand encircled her wrist. It was so long since she had been threatened or even in real danger, so when a cold, crude Orc blade pressed against her throat, all her she had was her survival instincts and Abrazân. "Let the lady go." Said Abrazân, in such a calm voice it was like he was reporting the weather.

She felt, rather than heard, foul laughter near her ear and she was pulled even closer, the dagger pressing so hard she could almost taste her own heartbeat. "You have no claim on her. You try to touch me, the girl dies." Stated the Orc. She made an attempt to adjust her stance to balance herself but the brute kept her hands and wrists in such a tight grip, it was a wonder he wasn't stopping the blood flow. Cries echoed in her ears.

_It must be the others!_She realized and was suddenly terrified at the prospect of losing more people due to her carelessness. After that, it all happened very ân unsheathed his sword and, with a blow that made Ariane flinch, severed off the head of her captor. It was over and done with in the blink of an eye. She would have fallen to the ground if the man beside her wasn't there to steady her shaken body. "I am sorry. I was caught unawares. I should have-"

She dismissed his apologies with a wave of her hand. "Nay. It is not your fault. I have become used to a comfortable life in Minas Tirith. I shall not make the same mistake twice." Before he could retaliate, an arrow streaked past them, missing them by a hairs breadth.

He snapped into action. "We must hurry." He said, taking her arm and sprinting over to the diminutive group of guards attempting to fend off a band of Orcs. Adrenaline surged through her as her legs stretched out, trying to reach the people that had accompanied them. The air whooshed from her lungs in quick, shallow breaths, her heart beating erratically. They eventually reached the small battle. There couldn't have been more than 10 Orcs, but the guards were so occupied with protecting the civilians that it was evident one of them was going to tire and allow one to break through.

"Stay close." Said Abrazân before joining the fight.

_Well, I'm hardly going to stand here and do nothing, am I?_ She thought, incredulous, all the while avoiding blows and swipes from enemy and thinking of some way of helping. A scream caught her attention. Ignoring all fighting instincts, she looked over her shoulder. It was Berathorn. A particularly ugly Orc had sliced his arm from the hand to the shoulder and it was bleeding badly. It was as if another part of her took over. She ran swiftly to his side and took his sword from the injured arm and brandished it at the new opponent.

"My lady, you cannot-" Berathorn started to protest but was cut off by Ariane.

"I may be a woman and you may not think me worthy, but the others are busy fighting. If you want a chance at life then you will let me try." She spoke sternly, making it perfectly clear that she was going to be involved whether he let her or not.

The sword was heavy; much heavier than she was used to. Her lack of training and non-existent practice made it difficult for her to hold the weapon above her waist, but she managed. The Orc circled her, snarling and baring it's teeth in a terrible mockery of a smile. She grimaced. After what felt like a lifetime, it lunged and she brought her sword to meet it in a clashing blow. Her arm ached already from the weight of the steel. Metal bit metal again as the Orc sought a weak point in her defence, which wasn't hard. The sword was never her favourite weapon; she preferred to go long distance with a bow, picking off enemies from the ground below when she climbed trees. The rare times she had been allowed to fight always ended well. The odds were always in their favour and she was never in real danger. This was different.

The Orc charged again and this time, she wasn't so lucky.


	14. A Rather Orcish Encounter Part 2

**Astrid: Sooo, that last chapter was obviously not me. I didn't edit it at all either, I kinda got excited over having a new chapter without writing it myself.^^  
>I'm gonna have to start stepping up in my writing again, to be up to par with my co-writers work, huh? Hopefully having someone who cares for the story will help me be interested in it again. Anyway... great work QueenSword, thanks a ton!<br>Here you kiddies go! Blessed be and happy reading!~**

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><p><em>The Orc charged again and this time, she wasn't so lucky.<em>

She jumped to the side just a millisecond too late, and the Orc was propelled into her right shoulder. Ariane heard a sickening _crunch _from the general direction of her shoulder, which was then followed by a sharp jolt of pain. She thought fleetingly, _what? _before the impact sent her harder to the side then her actual leap. Landing on her stomach, she quickly flipped to her back, and her eyes widened. Berathorn was slowly approaching the Orc, who was partially crouched in front of her and waving his sword menacingly. Quietly, she crawled to her feet, ignoring the pain in her right shoulder. She caught Berathorn's eye from behind the great ugly brute, and shook her head. His eyes flicked back to the Orc, who hadn't even noticed a thing. Orc's really were dumb animals, weren't they? Dumb, but dangerous. _They usually are,_ she thought wryly, before jumping onto the creature's back and wrapping her arms around its thick neck, attempting to cut the airflow off. Which didn't really have much effect, even if the damned thing _did_ breath. She took a moment to wonder if Orcs even had to breathe before she was clinging to the things neck for more than just defense-she was clinging to the Orc for dear life.

Aragorn stabbed his sword through the stomach of one of the last remaining Orcs mid-snarl, pulling upward to the neck before yanking out and kicking its still-snarling self away. He turned slightly, his eyes quickly assessing the situation as they were used to doing. There were only three Orcs left, and they were quickly being cut down by the guards. However, a skirmish on the outside of the main circle caught his attention. A bit from where he had left her stood Ariane-or rather, hung Ariane.

Ariane's breath caught in her throat as the sweaty Orc finally was able to grab a piece of her riding habit, using it to pull her to the front of itself. For a second she hung there, suspended on the Orc's chest as they had a stare-down. Her thoughts were flying about and whizzing through her head as she stared into the slanted black pools of thin ice, surrounded by sallow skin and emphasized by a rather large, ugly mouth with rotten teeth. The Orc then licked it's thin lips before snarling at her, spittle flying into her face. Disgusted and completely unprepared for this, Ariane released her death-hold on it's neck. The Orc snarled again as it raised it's weapon, taking a step with its fat, knobby legs.

Out of no where, a sharp, one-upon-a-time-gleaming sword came sticking out of the Orcs' chest. The Orc stared down at the black Orc-blood covered blade, before it fell forward with a sucking _pop_ to the ground, its upper torso landing on Ariane's legs.

Abrazân came forth and offered her hand, which she took with a wane smile, grimacing as their combined force pulled her legs out from under the Orc. His eyes strayed to the shapely calves that were exposed, though they were soon covered by a worried Ariane.

"Berathorn! Are you alright?" She gushed, rushing over to her maids husbands' side.

His lips were pale and pushed into a thin line. He nodded briskly, thanking her with his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead a terrible, hacking cough came out... and a glob of blood. _Oh, by all that is holy!_ Ariane thought as she pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to him. She looked over at Abrazân imploringly.

"What shall we do," She asked, but Abrazân was already by her side. He sheathed his sword, then moved aside a piece of Berathorn's tunic. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of what lay beneath. "Berathorn! How-what-why-"

"Quickly, hold this on the wound. Make sure to keep pressure. I shall be right back." Abrazân said with a commanding air that was oddly calming, especially in such a situation. He took off towards the main group, who were already on their short way back to the gate. The one or two who had been wounded to the point of staying stationary-like Berathorn-were laying on the ground with two women and a child calming them while new guards fresh from duty came spilling out of the gate to their aid. "Over here!" He called out, motioning to the guard. Two of them broke away and were by him in seconds. Before one could even open his mouth Abrazân had already taken off towards Berathorn and Ari. The two helped Berathorn onto a guard's horse, and with words of quick healing and a promise to come visit him in the House of Healing as soon as Lucretia was informed of what had happened the guards rode off carefully, taking their comrade into the city of Minas Tirith.

Ariane sighed heavily, her left hand placed over her right collar bone. Abrazân noticed, raising his eyebrows in concern.

"My Lady Ariane, are you alright? Your heart is on the other side," He joked half-heartedly, knowing how most Ladies put a hand over their heart in times of trouble-as if that accomplished anything other than drawing ones eyes to their bosom.

"I think," Ariane began, weakly, "I might've broken my collarbone."

He grabbed her left shoulder, turning her in to him, and gently moved her hand away. He pushed on the swollen skin slightly, and she hissed in discomfort.

"Come on. Let's get you to a Healer."

With that, they turned toward the gates once more, Abrazân to the left of her. Ariane took a shaking step forward, then another, then-Abrazân placed an arm under her shoulders, fingers curved against her ribcage and his other hand came up to hold her upper arm for support. She forced a grim yet grateful smile his way as the two made their way towards the city. Ariane tried to purge the self-blaming thoughts from her head and instead focused her concentration on her walking. However, they were relentless-_it's all my fault. I organized the outting. I put us all in danger. We could've been killed. How could I be so stupid_? With another sigh, they walked through the gates, where they were immediately accosted by Boromir.


	15. Recovery

_ With another sigh, they walked through the gates, where they were immediately accosted by Boromir._

"Ariane! My Lady," He gingerly placed a hand on her right forearm. His sharp eyes noticed the pain she was in and the light pressure she was exerting on her collarbone, "What happened?" Boromir motioned to her collarbone.

"Come," Abrazân interjected, "We **must **get her to the Healers. _Now._"

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><p>A pain-defying smile flitted across her face as the Healer talked her through caring for her broken bone. Ariane wished she would just finish it up already.<p>

"And remember, always wear your sling. It _will _heal incorrectly if you forgo it. The sling is the most important thing in your life right now. That, and food-yogurt (especially at dinner), leafy greens, oatmeal..." She quickly listed a few more food to help speed the healing process, then left. Ariane lied back down on the bed and was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

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><p><strong>(Day Five of "Abrazâ<strong>**n's" Stay)**

An intense feeling of being speared roused Ariane from slumber. She groaned and closed her eyes more tightly, turning her head away from the mid-afternoon light that was streaming in the window. An excited gasp prompted her to drag a heavy lid open, and she was rewarded with a squeal from her personal maid.

"Lucretia," She rasped, "Water."

"Oh!" Lucretia fluttered over to the pitcher and grabbed a cup with a whirl of energy. Ariane had meant to ask for silence; but the dryness of her mouth and throat were not to be ignored. Lucretia came to the side of her bed with the cup; Ariane drank deeply, holding Lucretia's wrist. She quickly gulped the lot down.

"My, my," Lucretia murmured, "We're a thirsty one, aren't we?"

Ariane ignored her, "I could have held the cup myself, thanks." Her eyes moved over to the chair placed near her cot. "Deraton?"

"Aye. I've been worried about you. I should have never let you go. Times are too dangerous, and they're only getting wor-"

"Deraton, my good sir, don't fret! And don't you _dare_ blame yourself! It is I who is to blame. It is I whom insisted we needed to leave the walls. I'm sorr-"

He cut her off, "Ariane, my sweet Lady, don't _you_ fret. What's done is done, after all." He gave a deep chucked, and his sepia eyes lit up. "We'll be able to safely go out riding someday soon, my Lady."

She nodded, not wishing to talk any longer. A comfortable silence settled over them-but not Lucretia. She fussed silently; brushing the strays back into the bun; plucking at her dress; examining her nails. Finally she exclaimed, "Abrazân and the Lord Boromir have been asking about you! They've been in and out of here all night. Every time I look out from my window, one or the other is walking either to or from here!" Lucretia lived a few houses down from the Healers. With a weary smile, Ariane closed her eyes.

Deraton picked up on her body language. "Lucretia, my love, we've got to go visit Jondolar and his wife and family."

"Right," She agreed, "I'll be with you tomorrow, Ariane. I was let off duty today due to your injure. Don't you wory, though, I'll be by your side the whole of tomorrow."

She inwardly cringed slightly, "Right. Good day to you two." And with that, Deraton guided Lucretia out. Ariane waited until her voice no longer reached her own ears before pushing back the covers and getting out of bed to find a healer. She swung her legs off of the cot and winced when the balls of her feet hit the freezing stone. Rubbing her collarbone, she took a deep breath and stood.

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><p><strong>(Eve of the 5th Day)<strong>

The Steward raised his cup, eyed boring into her. "To Ariane!"

"To Ariane!" His knights cheered, taking deep swigs from their cups. Ariane took a sip of her mead with a light dusting of a blush across her cheeks.

Boromir placed a hand over her right and leaned in slightly. She tilted her head towards him. "It seems my father likes you." She looked over at him and grinned happily. He chucked and leaned back in his chair, grabbing a slice of ham from his plate and ripping off a smaller bit to chew on. She looked around, raising the cup to her lips. After a deep gulp to try and numb the pain, she set it back and began to work on her plate, which was fuller than usual.

He looked at her without moving his head, studying her inconspicuously. She was wearing a deep green dress with yellow designs on the bodice, off-shoulder sleeves, of course. Her broken collar bone was swollen. Her hair was loosely tied at the nape of her neck, with a few indecent curls escaping. He was brought back from his musings by a sharp elbow in his side.

"Like what ye see?" Shevin asked gruffy, hiding a smile behind his thick mustache. Boromir rolled his eyes.

"Pardon?" But Shevin had already turned to his other side and was engaged in what seemed to be a rather livid argument. Boromir leaned forward, grabbing his cup to wet his lips. He lifted his eyes to look around the room when they caught on Wilwarin. Her eyes were searing into him. Noticing she finally caught his attention, she smiled seductively. He lifted half of his mouth in an almost-smile and quickly averted his gaze to the other side of the table. He didn't see the look of dark fury that took over Wilwarin's face.

Ariane put down her fork and frowned. She had barely made a dent in her plate yet she was full to the brim. She lifted her chin, surveying the room. Never before had she sat at the High Table. Her eyes unconsciously made their way to whom she believed was the most beautiful lady in the room: Lady Wilwarin. As she watched, not even realizing she was doing so, the Lady pushed a hunk of luscious strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder and leaned forward toward the knight she was conversing with slightly. _Most likely giving him a secret show__, _Ariane thought idly. Then, realizing she was staring, she looked away.

Wilwarin felt a gaze piercing her. She turned her head toward the High Table, expecting to find Boromir's eyes afixed on her, but instead her eyes were met with that _twit _averting her gaze. A rage boiled deep within her stomach, but quickly turned to satisfaction. So she was staring at her, eh? Mayhaps Ariane felt she was a threat. Interesting. Her eyes flicked to Boromir, who was talking with his father. She attempted to read his lips, but the oaf she had been practicing her wiles on interrupted her. Giving a fake, winning laugh, she turned back to the man.

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><p><strong>-Astrid.<strong>


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